Life After Circumventing Hogwarts' Security
by She-Who-Is-Not-To-Be-Psycho
Summary: HarryDraco. No spoilers. Dragged from his warm bed and though the streets of muggle London, Draco knows not what his mother plans, but his life is going to turn decidedly complicated the moment his mother sentences: Draco, you are at Hogwarts.
1. Prologue

**_Life After Circumventing Hogwarts' Security_**

_It's long after midnight. Professor Snape tells me the Dark Lord is impressed by my performance. At __dawn__, before my meeting with the dark lord, Mother comes to the hall room where I wait. She has sneaked into the room silently, but her tone is urgent when she speaks that she has come to pick me up. I am left no choice on the matter but to come along, but I understand nothing of the situation._

_Before I know it, we are walking amidst the muggles. Mother orders me to speak not. We descend stairs in the middle of the muggle city street. The lights die out, 'could have been day or night time up there. Something steely arrives, I sense it, but I only see the doors opening up to me. Mother urges me inside. I don't get to speak, again._

_We find the only two spare seats are those facing an old, visually-unpleasant muggle. Despite my protest, we don't move. Mother shushes me._

_This compartment starts moving. Followed by a loud noise, we gain speed and the landscape of a muggle station changes to a damp, dark, goblin-like cave wall. Rings tied by cords to the roof swing from side to side. I am reminded of the reputation of the Knightbus but feel much less at ease. The lights go off momentarily and I inwardly reach for my mother. It rattles like a Gringott's cart._

_A dozen stations later and the ugly muggle is gone, but we stay for three times her journey. I bit down the "are we there yet?" because mother hasn't grown tense any lesser since we boarded the muggle express. _

_At last, we stand and, wordlessly, like everything else, I am dragged away somewhere else... to another express. I'm growing bored but remain silent, sure not to be about spilling on magical matters with filthy muggles around; finally, we climb out the second sub-bay. I stare with panic and back at my mother because a new one is arriving._

_But this time, Mother drags me the other way; we hide behind a muggle __stand - the __static newspapers are giving news of 'unexplainable' things. I know what is coming now and I hold to Mother's arm, it embarrasses me, how this makes me look like a toddler. _

_Our feet hit the snow next momen__t with a plastic sound. We are facing a wall, the back of a familiar-looking shop. I register Mother's slightly relaxed tone sentencing we are here.  
_  
"Draco, you are at Hogwarts."


	2. Two To Tango

**Chapter One: **Two to Tango.

* * *

_Malfoy,_

_I would like to speak to you. If interested, meet me at neutral territory, Hogsmeade, there's in a cave near the Shrieking Shack on the grounds that lead to the Forbidden Forest. 7 this Saturday. Don't respond to this owl. – Harry Potter _

The letter was aimed to _the last house down Spinner's End, Appleton, Great Britain_, where Draco had been staying ever since his sixth and last year at Hogwarts. The place was untraceable but in moments like these, one could not help paranoia. Why? Why now? The tone of Potter's letter was firm but not unwittingly persuasive. If it had been Draco, it only meant one thing: Potter was attempting to negotiate. And if he thought to have the terms to allow bargaining, it could only mean Potter had something on him.

Hence Malfoy's sudden panic. The one thing Potter could blackmail him for were his current whereabouts, so, panic, it meant Potter knew where he and his mother were hiding. Which meant, palpitations, he was in Potter's mercy while we speak, right under the surveillance of whoever was informing Potter if not Potter himself, ready with his own private elite army.

Of course, at this point, Draco Malfoy had to make a double-take, breathe and make a more critic consideration of his position. The house was under a Fidelius Charm and the address in the owl only meant, well, that the owl system was as reliable as always. So, unless Professor Snape had bluntly revealed to Potter from all people just his private house address, he was being irrational.

At least, this comforted his fluttering heart… leave panic for when Potter and his army burst though the door.

Still, with that odd feeling partially blocking his throat, he re-read the letter a couple of times. It was as bare and uninformative as it had been the first twenty or so times he had been skimming though it in panic.

He was not what you would call "calm" but he was managing to return to a state in which he would be closer to stable – though also kept glancing over his shoulder at the door, as if afraid of being caught in-fraganti reading this absurd proposition. No real risk of finding the Dark Lord at the door, not when professor Snape had been refusing all this time to let them meet. He could calm down--- until somebody did indeed burst though the door.

"Draco!" came stranger voice pronounced in a hasty manner, as the face of a stranger slowly melted into his mother's, Narcissa Malfoy.

"Mother!" Draco felt his heart skip a few beats, and his hand moved half consciously to hide the letter behind his back,

"Don't just appear like that to me!" he said, having satisfactorily managed to turn such a childish whine to sound like an adult's command.

"I'm sorry, Draco dear, but look here what I could make my hands on at Knockturn Alley –" she extracted silvery fabric from a paper bag. "Do you know what this is? An Invisibility Cloak, I'm sure you haven't seen one before. This will help us, Draco. You may be able to walk down Diagon Alley now."

Despite his mother's uncharacteristic, hopeful-sounding behavior, Draco was overall unimpressed. He had seen these in action: cloaked men crashing into cloaked man, meeting the ground exposed and making a fool of them selves. You could hear the thud sounds when they bumped shoulders, even knocked heads together occasionally, coming out from nowhere. If you were lucky, you could hear an over-edgy woman scream coming by your apparently-empty side or feel something that wasn't there.

Besides, what was the use of hanging in Diagon Alley if you could neither shop nor talk, nor draw the appreciative glances of the knowing crowd?

"Thank you, Mother," said Draco though, picking the cloak between two fingers. "But couldn't we have asked Professor Snape for invisibility potions?"

"Severus has been very kind to provide us with polyjuice potion. I'd not want to abuse his hospitality. He's done so much for us already..."

As she was done keeping the cloak back in the bag and talking, she took her son by surprise flinging her arms around him in a hug. Draco took this gesture with shock and apprehension. How was he to keep it cool when his mother displayed such demonstration of anxiety and lack of self-control?

"It's alright, Mother," he said, uneasy under her embrace. Narcissa let go, returning some easiness on Draco's physical functions, and spoke before Draco could say any further. "I'm going out again."

Draco spun his head around fast. "Again?!"

"I'm not done shopping," she said, bussing-looking and going for the door, taking a potion from the stool with her. She stopped by the door and said, "When I come back, we can share that cloak and go outside for a walk."

She hesitated but said nothing further and left, almost apologetically.

Draco did not care about the trips to Diagon Alley. But he was trapped and useless inside the house. And, though he would like nothing more than having his mother at a safe distance, so would he have preferred that she would stay, and that she kept still.

Draco stared at the cloak and pulled the letter he had almost forgotten about from behind his back.

--

The weather was between template and cold, the trees smelled of rain. Malfoy searched the grounds thoughtfully for possible caves. Found only one. That though he was late when arriving, and he stayed outside hesitant even 10 minutes after the arranged time. He saw nobody coming in or out and was only starting to consider this all could be a trap. The idea of his ex-professors and Potter's group jumping out from the bushes assaulted his mind, comically but dreadful. But what he had most learned to fear was to expect the Dark Lord's allies and not his enemies on the other side. Of course, finding Potter in these or whatever circumstances was hardly enjoyable.

Draco took his first tentative steps into the cave at last. The walls cast shadows that threatened to conceal hostile things, from beasts to a body of MoM aurors. But instead, the cave was empty. Draco stayed and searched inside enough to be sure of this. Very sure of this. Two hours and half from the arranged time he left the cave and apparated back to Spinner's End. He threw the invisibility cloak moodily to the side.

After all the trouble sneaking out of the house and making up excuses…. That prick Potter didn't even show up! He was made fool showing up. He knew not to expect anything from the likes of Potter… Or he certainly did now.

--

"He didn't show up!" said Harry upon entering the entrance hall, throwing the invisibility cloak moodily on a couch. "After all the trouble I went though, I don't know what I was thinking…"

"Who didn't show up?"

"Mal –"

He caught sight of Tonks's odd expression but not of her moving her lips, and coming to think of it, it didn't sound like Tonk's voice at all. But barely registering the owner or the source, another voice spoke from the door to the kitchen, "is everything alright, Harry?"

Hermione was standing there, holding a tea set. And coming from under the cloak, Harry was only starting to it pull off the first voice's owner, was a distinctive and known red-head.

"What are you blabbering on about?" added a frowning Ron from the couch.

Tonks had an apologetic smile from the opposite couch.

"I was… nothing, it's not important," said Harry quickly, at the same time Tonks jabbered, "It was my idea!"

Now with Hermione's current look it seemed obvious he had no escape from the subject, "What is it that it was your idea, Tonks?"

Another apologetic smile which was more of a grimace… "Ah, that him, I, eh, we and Harry – I mean, me and him, had his idea. Well, no, I did tell Harry to do it –"

"Bugger it, Tonks," Harry said bluntly and turned to the two. "I sent a letter to Draco Malfoy two days ago asking him to meet me," he said seriously, "We wanted to help him."

"Yes and turn him to our side!" Tonks added. Harry displayed a pained grimace. From all things, he wasn't planning to appear like he had any _need_ for Draco Mafloy: "No, only help him."

Ron was soon upright, still in the couch, with outrage enough to add to his one-word speech the word 'bloody' many times: "Malfoy?!"

"I know it was not him who murdered Dumbledore," said Harry in a steady tone.

"But he sure made it possible!" Touché. How had he allowed Tonks to convince him of going through with this?

"We wanted to give him an opportunity to say in what team he's playing, but not that it matters now, it was just to talk, had he shown up, I don't know why I tried helping that prick." Harry said all this in one go and walked back and forwards and became progressively flustered. Ron was opening his mouth but Hermione had fast left the tea and came to put a hand in Ron's shoulder, enough to silence protests.

"But why didn't you tell us?" she said, trying hard to find the words. "You went alone to meet with Malfoy?" Harry got the impression she was trying to make up her mind if to say that was very brave or very stupid. As per usual with her.

She opened her mouth much before any sound came out. "Maybe he got scared, and you, Harry –" here it came… "– should have been more prudent as well. Malfoy could have easily used this opportunity to ambush you. Somebody could have intercepted the owl. And why would he trust you or anyone – oh, don't tell me you signed out with your name!"

Harry glanced at Tonks from the corner of his eyes and found, with some frustration, the latter was watching Harry with the same curious expression Hermione had. For the love of— "If Malfoy got an unsigned letter he would probably think it was a joke."

"Are you just out from your bloody mind?!" It was Ron who had climbed the couch on his knees to be at level with Harry.

At times like these Harry wished Grimauld Place had no wards and he could apparate right out of that place.

"Okay, I know! I was a fool and should have known better than to even try to help that scum. Believe me, it won't happen again." Before more retorts, Harry left the hall putting an end to the conversation. He felt enough of an idiot, as if he needed reminding any more of his blunder by those three.

Why had he even tried something like that? He should not have listened to Tonks…

--

It was hardly a week since Draco's exile from civilized wizarding society when he was let for the first time to have a brief meeting with his schoolmates at a secluded pub Narcissa Malfoy had made sure to have absolute exclusivity for. (Spoiled brat, I know.) Hence making it possible to resume an almost normal life. That had been his mother's plan, and to be quite honest she had insisted in this meeting more than Draco cared to assist to.

As it is, said schoolmates were the sons and daughters of Death Eaters no less. And they launched to speak of Death Eater matters, theme which, from the bottom of Draco's heart he could swear it not to be his first choice of conversation. The talk strayed once or twice to Draco's good work in the last assignment (the quietest of Draco's boastful behavior), and more usually to similar matters which didn't ease Draco's mood.

"I do not understand why this need of talking of Potter is about?" Malfoy spat, defensive though unintended. But it was plain unnerving. They had been talking hasty and retook the same subject with no meaningful inputs once and over again.

"We were only discussing our possibilities Draco," Pansy reflected, taking a diplomatic stance between two sides.

"I don't see what you get so jittery about, Mafloy," Millicent Bulstrode said, sneered in her scary smile. "You talk about Potter all the time and we never said a word. Is Potter your private subject of conversation?"

"I say," Malfoy interrupted and started over, slowly with a dangerous tone, "He's neither as good as the muggle-lovers think he is, nor the menace you make him appear to be."

"Funny, the way you previously talked, you would think Potter alone would be leading a revolution," retorted Theodore Nott, not helping his own nasty retort.

Though right, the statement had no resonance. Bless Draco's luck Nott was so low on the food chain. Grunts echoed on the moment there was silence. It was a palpable feeling the Slytherins were edgy, prompt to take each other's head of like a cranky Runespoor.

Meanwhile, Malfoy leaned back on his seat at the small table, dropping the whispering that had been issuing between the secluded, elite group.

"I am more aware than all of you just what menace Harry Potter represents to our families and pureblood status. If I say this talk is unnecessary, then it is."

Malfoy's little diplomatic sentence produced more grunts and murmuring than it received acceptation.

"And I am aware we are running out of _time_," spat Zabini. "While we are still inside of Hogwarts, it's the best time for any action we would wish to partake in. Malfoy –"

"Under the very nose of McGonagall's? What a brilliant plan, Zabini!" Malfoy crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, all in smug fashion.

"McGongall has me unconcerned," Nott resumed, "Dumbledore is – not – at – _Hogwarts_."

"Don't you think I know _that_!" Malfoy spat back. "Try your little plans if you're all so eager."

He pushed the seat back, stood and walked out of the back door without sparing them a second glance. He had been known to act like a petulant child and yet cause admiration with displays like these. In all that immature acting resided the fashionable, calculating adulthood, per see. (Others just might perceive he acted oddly alike his father.)

Of course, Draco Malfoy was rooting for admiration. He craved for that kind of attention. Or otherwise, deluded over it. As of now, he was walking down the streets with nothing but a hood, momentarily pushing aside the fact that he was absolutely right (he knew well the eyes would be on them more than ever), and self-proudly retiring to dwell over different matters.

Thus later he had decided Potter's letter was no other thing but one of those same Slytherins trying to pull his leg. It was that much more probable than it was for Potter to contact him. Having them all talk of Potter had only aroused his irritation. He hadn't been thinking back then, and he needn't any of Potter's help.

"I'm home."

Draco opened the door to his new home at Professor Snape's place. He thought he had heard a man's voice from the kitchen ("It's my pleasure with such delicious homemade meals –"), and then her mother came from the kitchen door.

"Oh Draco, it is you," Narcissa said and added a bit more than curious, "Have you come here under the Invisibility cloak?"

"Yes, mother," Draco lied. Behind mother, effectively, Snape's form appeared nodding a greeting. "Afternoon, Draco."

"Had you a good time?" his mother further asked.

"Terrific," Draco did not bother to hide his drawl. "I'm going to my room, I'm tired," he said as he retired.

He didn't fancy being questioned or bothered. Thinking that he needed such recreational activities was a scandal – he was an adult. Yet his mother talked as if he needed babysitting to the park.

As he left, however, he heard professor Snape's deep voice – he mentioned Draco being requested to meet with the Dark Lord. A shiver ran down his spine. He lay on his bed uneasily, adrenaline not letting him be at rest.

He had many nights lain like this only before the last two months. Some times, he pondered on his next step once he was through with the Dumbledore assignment. He had decided he wanted the Harry Potter assignment, as it was sure to be one. Nobody desired most to get Potter in his own game and, for once, defeat him on it. He had gone as far as think his lord incompetent and that he would be able to succeed where the Dark Lord had failed.

Boastful and proud, in desperation these comforting thoughts were what now scared him the most. His mind kept casting shapes in shadows, the curtains bellowed like a wizard cloak. Maybe it was because of these facts and the early conversation that his dreams wouldn't let him feel at peace either as a figure of Harry Potter zoomed into his mind...

--

The Hogwarts Great Hall, a flock of birds make circles across the ceiling like a cloud. Draco Malfoy just sent him an owl, the envelope says: "Read when in private."

Harry Potter looks up from the letter and Malfoy immediately drop his gaze. The letter reads: "Somebody you dislike needs your help. Come alone to the grounds by the castle wall, south tower for more information if this interests you."

It was a recurrent dream, they usually ended just afterwards with Malfoy not showing up, or Harry being too late, or being ambushed by a hang of Death Eaters. Remorse and making him a fool were bad, but the empty feeling wouldn't leave all day.

However, that night, Harry comes holding the letter in his hand. He waits and is alert, though not tense. A hooded figure comes from behind him. "Over here," it whispers.

Potter points his wand at it. "What's this, your idea of a joke?"

The figure remains silent though oddly familiar to Harry. "So you have agreed to help this person if you are here," it finally says.

"It depends on who is this person," Harry replies.

"Does it matter? It's been already stated it's somebody who you despise."

Harry turns from narrowing his eyes to raising an eyebrow. "Despise is it now? I thought it was only dislike."

"_Then this is useless_."

The figure turns around and starts to leave, all too readily.

"Wait," Harry calls. He pauses and seriously, "While it's not Voldemort or Snape, I'm willing to listen."

The figure, staying in that spot, turned around to face Harry, then pulled the hood down...

"Anybody but Snape and the Dark Lord, Potter. Your offer still stands," Malfoy sentenced, chin raised.

Harry pushed the wand back into his robes. "Depends, don't flatter yourself. I'm not killing anybody –" nor will you, "or betraying my friends, outside that..."

Malfoy looks anxious, hard as he tries to hide it.

"Last year, Dumbledore – Headmaster Dumbledore offered me refuge while I... became your ally."

"And you want to turn to our side?" Potter said.

"No," Malfoy says uneasily. "But circumstances are different. I committed a deadly mistake, my choices are limited. And I need a hide."

Harry frowns. "To tell you the truth I already knew of Dumbledore's intention towards you. And I'm not sure if I want to help you."

"You won't." Though sentenced, it was a question. Harry looked into Malfoy's cold eyes, something telling him like a Felix Felicis that it was not time to consent yet.

Almost childishly, he hn-ed with a shrug, "What was it that you did wrong? Did you fell for a muggleborn?"

"It is like that," – the confession took Harry off guard – "You saw me that day and know I have been maintaining contact with a... dead muggleborn, but a muggleborn nonetheless. The strength of our love cannot be concealed—"

--

Draco choked, badly, when he waked up coughing at the same time his mother's face came into view.


	3. Puzzle & Piece

N/A: This fanfic is SPOILER-FREE, following the storyline up to HBP, planned before the publication of Deathly Hallows and will remain so until further notice. Couldn't be more unlike the real book, really.

Special and very much thanks to QianYun: you are the dream reviewer, and I've found all your comments very helpful - much as I intended most fragments to be vague, I might have gone overboard with that. Special thanks, too, to gryffindor gin from the LJ hp-rpg for co-working with me in some of the following scenes.

Psycho.

* * *

**Chapter Two: **Puzzle & Piece.

* * *

Today a new family just knocked on the doors of the castle asking the Headmistress to let them hide here. It was all disorienting new to Harry; stumbling onto staff of Hogwarts school and have them greet him like old mates. From what Hagrid reckoned, even the creatures of the forest had fled. It sounded deserted, and the trees were dying, dementors were scattered everywhere. 

A bit late at midday, late August, Harry was on his way to the Headmistress' office, as he was summoned to on matters he ignored but suspected as much as them being Order business. Pass the gargoyle and the staircase and at the door; he knocked and waited.

"Yes, please come in," came McGonagall's voice muffled behind the door. He turned the knob. The scene that greeted Harry's eyes was something that only reflected his latest dreams.

--

He should have seen it. She waited for owls eagerly! At some point, Draco had hoped he was waiting a letter from Father. Late night talks with Professor Snape were often. But Draco had not suspected, not this.

With every word coming Mother's mouth, Draco felt his pride shattered, his face burn with shame and with pity for her, and with fear now standing before the enemy, McGonagall, the current Headmistress of Hogwarts. Time and time again he had said the position would soon be his Lord's.

But it was the top of the iceberg now to be confronted the one and only, the famous Harry Potter.

"We have been expecting you," said McGonagall. Harry was lost, looking for one to the other. McGonagall hadn't acknowledged that he had withdrawn his wand. "Please, Potter, sit down."

A few moments of hesitation summoned McGonagall's attention back to Harry, "If you wouldn't mind, professor, I prefer to be standing."

He moved two slow steps rounding the group and didn't lower his wand. Draco sneered a proud, hateful kind of expression, but his mother was grimacing, offended. Cagily, Harry didn't take his eyes of the two.

"Well, Potter, do as you might," Headmistress McGonagall had said, sitting down at the big desk chair that once had been Dumbledore's. "I'll now fill you in on what I called you for. Thanks for arriving on such short notice." There was something certainly unnerving on how unthreatened McGonagall sounded.

"On the first issue, yes these are Draco and his mother Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy, who you have personally met quite enough times, and as well, their son. There is no polyjuice, disguise spell or confundous charm involved. I've made sure of that."

"I can tell."

Harry said with his eyes on Malfoy, whose face, Harry felt, nobody could reproduce beyond the physical aspects like this. ("Well that would have saved me a bit of time," the Headmistress noted.) They glared to one another for a brief time before McGonagall continued.

"Yes," she said, disregarding them. "We have had a bit of talking before you arrived. Mrs Malfoy here has requested for our help giving her and her son hiding from the dark lord. You will find this is a very important decision, and I want you to be part of it, Potter."

Something seemed to click on Harry's mind like he had been walking with his eyes closed the moment he walked into the room.

Suddenly, a known feeling formed in him. The sight of the two Malfoys, not just the general picture like a photograph, produced in him anything but hostility. Moreover, the notion of responsibility felt as relief and not a burden.

After the first shaken silence, Harry looked from one to the other, and his eyes suddenly strayed to one of Dumbledore's old possessions.

"I believe there was a way – Dumbledore was thinking of a way to hide a person, making them appear dead."

Draco eyes widened slightly which was a brief notice against McGonagall's sudden statement, "That's an excellent idea, Potter – How would you two see fit such arrangements?"

Narcissa spoke instantly without a look at the shocked face of his son, "It sounds like a marvelous idea. Please proceed as you see fit."

McGonagall nodded. "I will see to it. Then there's the matter of your dwelling."

"So you will do it? Just like that?!" said Draco suddenly and not a bit less skeptical. "What are you playing–"

Narcissa put a hand on her son's shoulder, promptly silencing him. McGonagall turned to Harry,

"I have understood you have your reasons to think of helping this situation, and I trust nobody better than you to tell me Draco Malfoy and his family deserves my help. So, again I repeat the decision will be yours, Harry."

Harry stared back at McGonagall, switching his sight briefly to the Malfoys; the three were staring at him. He looked at Draco. A series of flashes, of memories reproduced before him, distant, of everything Draco Malfoy had done to him and the answer was a breath away. His answer would be the difference if the two of them were left at bay or offered something better…

Harry slowly nodded, said, "I'll find a place for you and your mother."

This incredible revelation was only protested by the sound of Draco's voice.

"But I can't go back to Hogwarts!" Draco urged McGonagall. "Half the school that night saw or know I left with Death Eaters!"

"I can offer shelter to both but," McGonagall started, "I do think, like Mr Malfoy, this might not be the best place for him." Harry swiftly turned to her. But where could it be safer than Hogwarts? he thought bewildered.

"Might I suggest your current address?"

McGonagall was looking at Harry with a meaningful look. Harry's eyes went wide. "No! How will I trust Malfoy there? It's the Headquarters –"

"It is true that it's a risk, but so is too with Mr Malfoy here. Now, Potter, if you remember, Severus Snape had access to the Headquarters but he has not yet spoken. That tells us the Fidelius is still in effect. Now, it will be a bit problematic to get Mr Malfoy in, but I'm sure Albus left us some kind of tool."

"Living with Potter!" said Draco interrupting them once again, with an inconclusive tone of disbelief. "But –"

McGonagall cut him short, "You will find there aren't many alternatives, Mr Malfoy. You are to appear dead to the eyes of all. Your mother can stay at Hogwarts, though. She should be safe and not many will know her true identity. We are giving shelter to so many families she should blend with the rest."

McGonagall looked at the shocked faces of the two boys, just as Narcissa spoke, "Yes… yes, I agree on the terms."

"Mother?" pleaded Draco. But Narcissa Malfoy was impassive, facing at all times forwards, "Do as they say, Draco, and go with them."

McGonagall drew potions from the shelf behind them. "For disguise," she explained, "Slughorn provided them for us. Take one, Potter, you too."

The atmosphere was awkward: Harry felt odd standing there with the bottle in his hands and the two Malfoys were similarly uncomfortable. "Ah, one last thing, if you could just wait outside the door..."

Without a second pause, Narcissa Malfoy nodded and headed outside, his son hesitant or maybe reluctant followed in a slow pace looking back one last time.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry said, gesturing the door. "Leaving them alone."

"They've come on their own accord all this way. I doubt they'll run away this deep into the plot." McGonagall lowered herself into the desk chair. "Now we can tend to _that_ issue."

"I can't," he told her at once. He expected this since he received the owl from McGonagall. "I know you really are in need but, my role at Hogwarts –"

"It could be a crucial point for moving your pieces, Harry. I don't deny I'm quite in need of somebody to take on the role of Defense Against Dark Arts professor for a year, but I don't plan to hide that I also think it should be advantageous to you in your quest."

Harry concentrated in a random spot. She had a point but, there was too the issue of how much he could put in both tasks at the time. "It's just… I don't have much time. I'm flattered, I really am… I'll think about it."

It as the best he could do for now: give it a bit of consideration. How this would clash with the most recent events, he didn't know.

They exited the office late afterwards after the setting sun; escorting them there was also Shacklebolt who was in charge of McGonagall's security that night. The evening had drifted away, a two-way conversation between McGonagall and Draco's mother discussing details of the Malfoys accommodations. Harry led the two Malfoys to the North Tower where the tents were kept, their backs against the tip of his wand.

Narcissa surprisingly stopped walking, to add to Harry's tipsiness. "Rather than victims we seem prisoners," she said acidly.

Harry pointed his wand at face-level. "You and your son have given me no reasons to trust you both."

"If my son gave his word, then he plans not to harm you," Narcissa said resolutely sideways. Her expression edged outrage.

"I'll believe it when he proves it," Harry retorted with an equally defiant glare.

They resumed walking.

There was a tense atmosphere in the air of this damp, dark tunnel. It bothered Harry how his decision had no seem his own, how he would even think he should look forwards to this opportunity, as he had back in McGonagall's office. Moreover, how Malfoy could almost look unwilling with what sacrifices this meant to everybody.

When in retrospective, Harry and Draco were mere public, passive observers after verbal agreement. The idea of helping this selfish git suddenly seemed ridiculous.

"This is it," said Shacklebolt in a manner that was all too sudden for Malfoy.

Narcissa, who had remained calm and serene all this time, nodded and turned to fling her arms around her son. Draco, amidst apprehension, did nothing to return the hug.

It was most cold. The hug could not last longer and they parted at last without another look at the other's eyes. The last of her mother's words were "Take care, Draco."

He and Potter watched Narcissa Malfoy go with Shacklebolt. They had been so cold, even Harry would have wished they had said goodbye in another terms.

"What now," drawled Draco as the secret passageway door closed. Harry had the same hard look, "Now we wait for Shacklebolt to come back."

--

It was odd to see students at summer holidays loitering in the halls. Harry skipped though corridors evading what felt like midget versions of him dressed in Gryffindor robes. He climbed the stairs behind the gargoyle again and into the office.

"Here," Harry gasped upon opening the door. McGonagall was rounding the office in a hurry herself. "Come in, Harry. I'm expecting the owl any minute, I'll be in the other room. You go on ahead."

She walked though the door and disappeared behind. It was with few tentative steps then hurrying the lasts that he stepped in front of Dumbledore's portrait. The frame was empty.

"Professor?" he asked, puzzled.

Finally, from behind right frame of the portrait, came a blue, starred pointed hat in a face and subsequent white hair and long beard hiding the twinkling blue eyes staring at Harry. The sight constricted his stomach and left him a cold chill on the chest, a nostalgic happy feeling that pulled the corners of his mouth tightly in a sad smile.

"Harry," was all Dumbledore needed to do, and to flood in a series of memories Harry hadn't realized he had put aside. There was nothing sad in the way Dumbledore's portrait spoke, the same twinkling eyes shone back at him with his same intensity as when alive.

They stared at each other with understatement in their eyes. The Dumbledore in the portrait almost seemed a stranger to his death.

It wasn't until Harry reached to rub his left eye behind the glasses that he spoke, "Professor, we need help going into Grimmauld Place, but it's a person who hasn't been let on before. How can we let somebody in who wasn't let in on the secret while you – when the secret keeper has died."

Dumbledore smiled satisfied, "Of course, it'd be quite an inefficient headquarter if it won't let space for new members. Now I believe, if you turn this portrait..."

Harry grinned, turning it around. It was a single slip of paper stuck on the frame. He turned the picture again, Dumbledore was saying something ("For an eventuality such as these –")

Harry frowned. "Only one?" he said, turning the slip of paper in his hand.

Dumbledore nodded quite simplistically. "There is more, I believe you will have to ask Kreacher for them."

"_Kreacher has them?_" Harry inquired.

"Sirius had him obey one simple rule about them: to never give them to anyone but you. These plans were made at the time of the decision that you would inherit everything else. But, in case something was to happen to Kreatcher, I left one single slip behind."

Dumbledore smiled with the old twinkle in his eyes. Harry smiled back. Then smiling sadly, almost apologetically, he spoke.

"Why did you have to go? Hogwarts still needs you, more than they need me. I wished I had died instead."

A strong stinging feeling had attacked his eyes, aching for a good rub. Neither spoke for as long as Harry rubbed his eyes in a fashion he might have hurt himself. Dumbledore, however, sat himself in the portrait desk, and waited.

"I should not have been the one to live," Harry repeated thoughtlessly. He gave his eye one last rub and felt a certain numb easiness, like exhaustion when he breathed.

The portrait spoke unexpectedly, Dumbledore was solemn.

"I once said death is but the next adventure. But, Harry, you should never seek to die. You must hold on to life very tightly, for it's a precious gift, until the time comes when we all must say goodbye."

Harry shut his eyes hard, took and replaced his glasses over his nose. After a brief moment of pause, he asked, "Why did you trust Snape?"

The question was out before he could think more of it. Dumbledore looked back at Harry with the face of some one who would put his foot down, stand against being cornered or answer unwilling, but who was also patient.

"You already know that answer, Harry, it was concealed from the beginning in your nemesis' eyes," Dumbledore had said.

"Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"No, I meant Mr Malfoy."

Harry shook his head at this odd response and concentrated in the subject, defensive, "But Snape always was an ogre to me."

"He treated you the only way he knew how to; as he treated your father, Harry. They held much hostility towards one another, yet if you think he felt no link towards the other, you are mistaken. I'll tell you, Harry, Severus came to me when he knew your parents were on peril."

"But Snape killed you –"

"I'll answer no more questions, Harry."

Harry would have spoken anyways of what the portrait didn't appear to know, he should tell him. But the Dumbledore in the portrait had moved out, not reappearing though the next frame.

--

"Drink."

Even though Potter had the courtesy of shoving the foul-smelling potion under his nose, it didn't make the proposition any more appealing. "Polyjuice?" Draco asked, sneering down at the vial.

"We need to exit though the front gates, nobody can recognize you," Harry told him serious. He would have used the passage to Hogsmeade, but he didn't trust Malfoy enough with that little secret. "McGonagall got the hairs. It cannot look like _you_ are walking with me down the corridor like buddies, now can it?"

Draco sneered hatefully a second time, taking the vial roughly from Potter's hand. He glared at it giving himself courage to drink, then swallowed a gulp.

The reaction was instant; he was doubling over with his hand on his stomach screwing his face. Harry had almost no time to reach for the potion before he lost the grip of it.

Suddenly, Malfoy skin was slightly darker, his hair going curly and darkening rapidly as well, his hair also got... longer? Unlike Ron's height, Malfoy was shrinking; his hair was way too dark to be Ron's, and for a second Harry thought Draco was transforming in a Terrier Spanish. And then there were a pair of things in his chest that shouldn't definitely be there...

"What have you done to me?!" The face of Hermione stared back with panic.

Harry stared with the urge of slamming his face into his fist. "Erm," he said ever too eloquently, "there's been a mistake --"

"I say!" Draco replied. He was looking at his hands, his long hair and apparently avoided looking down, suddenly he caught his reflection in a nearby window and paled. "The Mudblood! You made me into the mudblood?!"

Suddenly Harry had slammed Hermione's slim figure into a wall, his fist closing in the neck of Malfoy's shirt. "Don't you call Hermione that if you don't want to spend your hiding years in Azkaban."

He released Malfoy and waited for him to retort. When he didn't give any, Harry added in a slightly more comprehensive tone, "It's a disguise as any other. Now at least it would make sense you are tagging along me."

Malfoy made a derisive noise. "Fortunate of me, I get to follow Potter around like his loving fangirl, yay," he said scathingly.

Harry lingered at the door of the passageway, grimaced, but shook his head clear. Pushing the door open, "C'mon," he told Malfoy.

The light of the corridor was momentarily blinding. Harry kept a wary eye on Malfoy, the latter walking lazily behind in his usual air of superiority and contempt. Passing by, a couple of girls ogled at them funny.

"Malfoy..." Sideways, Harry mumbled irritably, "Drop that face."

"_What?_" Malfoy asked with a face screwed in incredulity.

"You're Hermione, and Hermione is one of my best friends."

"So?"

"So Hermione doesn't wear that expression," Harry bit back, cracking his neck to look at him. "Play out your role better; you need to act more like Hermione."

Malfoy answered this with his own mock dawning expression, edging towards irritable, "So, do you reckon I should suck up to you, Potter?"

Harry sneered right back at him.

"I suppose you'd prefer its Draco Malfoy sucking up to Harry Potter."

To an outsider, no doubt it looked quite out of character the way the glared or sneered at each other. "Just relax your face or something," Harry finally added as they resumed walking.

But he did not get far because, just behind him, a voice like a pang in his chest sounded somewhere near closely followed by a crash sound and a metal goblet tumbled hard on the floor. Harry had only made out _her_ voice calling him when interjected by the sound of Hermione's own ("Watch it, mugg—") and the sight of Hermione praying violently from Ginny's touch.

Harry turned to them at once. "Ginny?"

She was looking at Hermione curiously, and just then Harry noticed the front of her robes soaked in pumpkin juice. Plus, there was Hermione's own amused expression. Apparently, Malfoy had not stopped talking to keep his disguise but for better appreciating his accidental handiwork.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, turning to her just managing a short glare at Malfoy. She had not been the first person Harry would wish to see, much less in these present circumstances.

"Yeah, I…" Ginny looked to Hermione-Draco again whose face had clearly relaxed but replaced with an unpleasant, fake, cold apologetic look.

"Why, hi, you," Malfoy said with no better thinking of a way to address her, "let me tell you, orange suits you: matching family hair."

He could be clearly seen though disguise: Malfoyishness poured out from everywhere in that smile. Ginny looked like she could "huh", shook her head and turned to Potter.

"Hi, Harry," she said neglecting Draco who was partially blocking the way. "So it was true, I heard from somebody that you were in the castle." Her face brightened with a smile. "We have been staying, the whole family in Hogwarts in the summer.

"I was thinking, since you are back –" but Harry, upon proximity and something else, said right away, "It's not what you think."

At the same time Ginny was saying "start where we left."

"I can't stay," Harry elaborated. Ginny's expression dropped. The corner of "Hermione's" lip turned smugly. It unsettled Harry that Malfoy would use Hermione's face to look like that. "I'm sorry, I told McGonagall," he said again, sideways still glaring at Hermione's way.

"But if we went to the grounds for a second –"

"I can't right now," he gave another look at Malfoy's direction.

"– can't hurt," finished Ginny and now her expression was not pleading but mad, "But why! We never see! You don't want to be with me, not once before you go off wherever you go."

"Now, now, ah, Ginny," came a drawl, "you sure want to make a scene in the here and the now?"

Malfoy had spoken though Hermione's mouth, his amusement still shining in her eyes though restrained by the bit of control Draco was exercising to have a diplomatic pretense, albeit rather mean look, on Hermione's face.

"I believe you have heard the man has more _important_ things to do, that with saving the world and all that," continued Draco in what Harry recognized as his attempt on an exaggerated matter-of-factly Hermione-tone.

"And I believe the busy Harry Potter has also dumped you last year. I would think by now you would have understood the message," nasty, Draco added. "I will tell you what _I_ think; I think even I get more attention from your boyfriend that you do, Weasley. Actually, of course I do."

"I don't –?" Ginny was clearly disoriented with the way Hermione was speaking. Draco made a hand motion with 'her' hair that looked like Pansy rather than Hermione. A sight to groan to.

This was nothing new. This was Malfoy being Malfoy. Harry wanted to say something, but hesitated in the act; he would have said it had their plan not required heavily on that nobody should find out about Malfoy. At any rate, Harry got the impression Ginny must have believed Hermione was trying to stick up to him.

"This is nothing of your concern, Hermione, stay out of it," she said, acidly.

Malfoy chuckled on Hermione's voice. "Why, doesn't Potter's girl have a loud mouth?" His sneer reappeared with sinister pleasure, "Or should I say, one of Potter's girls."

He stressed the "s" a hiss. Ginny looked ready to turn to Potter when her face got dragged back to look at Hermione, "– girls?"

"Why, isn't it obvious?" Hermione answered condescendingly, hooking one of Potter's arms into hers. Ginny looked taken aback but quickly recovered, just as quick Harry had parted from the impostor in shock.

"A bit jealous are you?" Ginny bit back. "I never knew you, Hermione."

Harry wanted to say something but –

"Jealous!" Malfoy replied with hilarity almost fake and seemly forgetting in whose shoes he was walking. "What would I be jealous about: your privileged social position, your lack of proper wizarding education or your mental capacity to understand them?"

Ginny must have thought Hermione meant it because she was one year behind Hermione and Harry. She said, "That I spent so much time with _Harry_.And that I'm much more woman than you are."

"Woman? You call –" Draco took a moment to get into Hermione-mode, and resumed: "You can _hardly_ call that underdeveloped body of yours a woman's, _Ginny_."

The name came amiably and Harry stretched his knuckles. Malfoy was pushing it. It was the top of the iceberg that Draco had turned to him and mouthed the word 'Harry' with the same tone – as if it was a joke only Malfoy or this Hermione and he shared. Ginny easily picked that look.

"I suppose you should know about the bodies Harry Potter prefers, then," Ginny asked besides herself.

"Beats me," confessed Hermione. "'Cannot believe Potter dumped a good body like Chang's for one like yours, Weasley."

Ginny's cheeks turned pink.

"Hard to believe to you, isn't it?" Ginny gave his own retort, nastily.

"If I didn't know better, I would suggest you paid him to be your boyfriend, but then again, I know you can't afford Harry Potter."

Eyes grew wide.

"Hermione!" Ginny said outraged.

"It's not her," Harry said instantly, stepping in front of the two, and looking at Ginny. He blocked the Hermione from view as Ginny looked like she was ready to curse her (frankly, he could not blame her). Ginny turned her eyes to Harry, a question in them. "I'll explain you later," even now, the only answer he could give her.

Harry turned around and took the fake Hermione by the wrist, furious dragging Malfoy along towards the gates of Hogwarts. Practically it looked like Malfoy could not care less after that laugh. Potter glared at him but Malfoy's hilarity extended though his punchline, "_What? I was acting out my part_." Ginny could only stare after them.

That sour moment lasted much later after Malfoy was done with his laughing, up on a carriage to Hogsmeade. He left Ginny like that… why did he even had to meet her!_ Because she wanted to see you_, a little voice in Harry's head played.

He groaned. Everything was wrong. He would need at least five different stories to patch it all up.

Malfoy was astonishingly pleasant during their trip, which meant he was sulking bored. Just about a tiny fragment more than the alternative, but Harry was appreciating the change from a laughing fit. At that time Harry was, stronger than ever, having his doubts about this.

He descended the carriage not without closing his fist on Malfoy's sleeve and dragging him along, as if the feeling of holding Malfoy where he could see him was the only comfort… if not a bit cathartic.

But Draco let himself be dragged around the shops like a walking lump of clothes, though wizards and between shops and reaching a spot of concealment in forestation.

Finally, Harry let go of Malfoy's arms, the latter praying from him violently even as Harry had already released him, just to show his spite. Harry was finding that every time he looked at Draco a surge of fury spurred within him. Draco mirrored the hate in his expression.

"Hold on to me," Harry said without turning a hair.

But Malfoy turned to him, looking bewildered, "What?!"

Harry, serious to the point of looking angry, said, "We're going to Side-Apparate, the least you know where we're going the better."

He was holding out his arm but Draco had stepped back. "No way am I going to hold on you," he said. His mother was one thing, but _him?_

"And we can't apparate here! This is Ministry Apparition Control Eye area! Don't you know anything, Potter?"

The look on Potter's face was a little more than blatant; priceless. The weight of truth crushed Potter's attempt at looking un-lost; it exceeded his capacity.

Lightly now, Draco elaborated, "My name in one of those documents is like running up to them with a red flag shouting 'Hello, trolls, I'm here!'"

Harry looked around but saw no way though it at the current point. "And where would be an area not watched by the Ministry?" he asked, one elusive glance revolting though the area as if he attempted to perceive it himself.

Draco shrugged, covering up his own ignorance. "Various points in the different Wizarding Areas, and many underground or muggle…"

He remembered where he had apparated at with his mother just this morning. In fact, the impression of apparating away on his own and to freedom felt tempting. But he could not leave his mother behind.

"There's also," Draco continued, "the issue of the where we are apparating to. How do you know your apparating point is safe? What, I suppose the hero Harry Potter didn't mind to be on the knowledge of these things before because the Ministry is lax with idol of the Wizarding World."

There was another quick motion in which Harry had grabbed hold of Malfoy's wrist and forced him to face his furious face. "Or I just didn't need it since I've never been a wanted criminal," he said dangerously. "Stop pushing my buttons, Malfoy. If you hadn't noticed, I'm helping you over here."

He released Malfoy and went on, "For what I reckon, you should be pleading and in your knees to ask my help and I should be torturing you with ambiguous answers. In fact, I won't move another step before you say _please_."

Malfoy looked bewildered, but there was no change in his scorn.

"Or else you can choose to go back to your hole, wherever it was that you were hiding before. Don't worry, your mother can stay here since she's a tad bit politer."

Draco antagonized with his fear of going back leaving his mother, and the humiliation of begging on his knees, twisting his face into a grimace. The latter feeling overruled the first. Draco looked full of spite.

"You have nerve, breaking your word."

He raised his chin, dignified by the action, and started walking away. Harry stared back. He should have known Malfoy would be such a prick as to refuse to say "please."


End file.
